"HELLO!" he nearly screamed at her, the headphones drowning out his voice.
"...more than three times a week, up for being experimental..." she sang softly, oblivious to his presence still.
"Hello?" he said again, giving up on shouting and tapping her on the shoulder.
"Gaah!" she screeched, jumping a little in her seat.
"Welcome," he said extending his hand.
"C'mon," he said, walking fast in front of her, "Move your ass." She frowned.
"You're not very nice," she said almost childlike. He smirked.
"You're not very useful," he said, delighting in the hue of red her face must be.
"Drink it," he said, downing his own poison. She scrunched her nose.
"Why?" she asked, looking at the glass with contempt. He shrugged.
"Forget. Live. Forget again," he said quietly, "You'll soon be begging for the bottle."
"Well, I think you're just another stupid drunk," she said boldly. He grimaced.
"You know nothing of what I am," he said, indicating to the bartender he wanted another drink.
"Why doesn't he have..." she began sheepishly, "...A girlfriend?"
"Not that type of person," he said, nearly laughing, "Maybe he likes guys."
"Shut up!" she huffed, glaring at him.
"You're so easy to rile up," he said, flicking her ear with his finger.
"I HATE it when you do that..." she almost whined, and then let her fists do the talking.
"He'll be alright...right?" she asked, knowing full well the answer. He nodded.
"He should be fine," he lied. She almost grinned.
"You don't have to lie to me. I'm an adult," she breathed, "I can handle it." He shook his head.
"Wanna go get a drink?" he asked quietly. She nodded.
"You are way too sssshilent," he said, slurring his words carelessly. She struggled to keep her head up.
"Tell me," she said quietly, "About you."
"Naaaah..." he murmured, "You're waaay mooore intereshting." She scowled.
"I don't need you pity," she whispered, "Or for you to get into my pants." He looked at her with absolute sober clarity.
"What do you think I am?" he spat out. She shrugged.
"Another result of this city," she annunciated, "Haunted, but somehow lively." He grinned.
"You shure you don't wanna get into my pants?" he wiggled his eyebrows, making her giggle.
"No," she said through her smile, "You smell awful!"
"And they say women are whores," she muttered as he stumbled into the room.
"I heard that," he said, grimacing while holding his hands to his head.
"Another brunette?" she said coyly, "Some pretty young teenager?"
"You don't have to be such a bitter hag," he said, holding his hands over his hungover ears. She slammed something on her desk.
"Shit!" he yelled, "My head already feels like a jackhammer's chipping away at it!"
"Just keeping you on your toes," she said with an imperial air. He frowned.
"Remind me never to drink again," he said quietly.
"I thought I told you to leave me alone," she whimpered, tears streaming down her face.
"I know this is what you do after work," he said, standing in the doorway.
"Did Rude tell you?" she accused. He shook his head.
"You're far too easy to read," he said walking nearer to her desk, "Besides, I followed you." She grimaced.
"It hurts," she sighed, "I don't like death. At all."
"Well," he casually uttered, "It's what happens. You either get busy with life, or you cling to the dead." She stared at him. "...or you get drunk and forget," he whispered so she couldn't hear.
"Let's go to the bar," she sobbed, "I want to feel numb. Will you help me?" He stared down her pleading eyes.
"Just smile for me," he breathed, still separated by the desk, "Please?"
She reluctantly complied.
"Wake up!" she screeched at him, hovering above his sleeping form.
"Mmm..." he murmured, "Wazzup?"
"You bastard!" she yelled, finally pulling him out of dreamland. He looked up her puzzled.
"Wha...happened?" he asked, suddenly realizing she should not be in his room.
"You sleazebag! You..." she could not finish, her fury too sudden for her head.
"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked, holding his throbbing head in his hands.
"I can't. Something about crying, then the bar..." she opened her eyes wide.
"Let's just pretend it's nothing," he whispered, "We drank a little too much."
"Right..." she muttered, gathering up her clothes and staring into nothingness.
"Will you at least talk to me?" he pleaded, watching her ice cold form. She continued to ignore him.
"I didn't mean it," he whispered harshly, "I'm sorry I didn't cut you off sooner." She turned to him sharply and scowled.
"Easy for you to say," she hissed, and sauntered out of the room.
"Damn," he whispered, "Stupid!"
"Ha!" he laughed, "Caught you!" She looked at the door, and noticed the keys dangling from his hand.
"You...can't be serious," she sighed incredulously. He grinned.
"Just let me apologize," he said carefully, "Then I'll let you out."
"Alright," she said, slumping her shoulders, "Apologize."
"I'm sorry," he said clear and crisp. She grinned.
"Let me out," she demanded, a little humor in her voice, "I need to get to the bar before it closes."
"I hope you understand your tolerance now..." he scolded, handing her the keys.
"So it's all over, Reno," she said nostalgically, surveying the ruined city. He shrugged.
"It's been that way for a while now," he said matter-of-factly. She frowned at him.
"Was it really...nothing?" she quietly asked. He raised his eyebrows.
"Of course," he answered, "We messed up once."
"Twice," she whispered. He looked over at her wide eyed.
"...I left before you woke up," she said, turning her head to him. He smirked.
"Well," he joked, "I must be something, huh?" She smirked back.
"I wouldn't flatter yourself," she said slyly. He grinned.
"...What are you doing?" she asked, having noticed his untouched drink.
"It's called kissing," he said sarcastically, "Something that young people do?" She backed off.
"You're sober," she said shakily. He nodded.
"Just curious," he said, mischief in his eyes, "I can't remember the other times."
"NO!" she shouted suddenly, wiping the grin off his face, "Please don't." She ran out of the bar, leaving a confused Reno behind.
"You always know where to find me," she said as he entered the room.
"Len, it's Tseng's office," he said quietly, "You're always in here."
"It still feels like him," she whispered, staring into space, "It's comforting."
"I know," he said, approaching her slowly, "I just hoped you where the other type."
"What is that?" she asked cocking her head to the side. He smiled a little at this action.
"The type who would get busy living," he said, sitting in the chair next to her. A tiny tear made its way down her cheek.
"Don't..." he murmured, "...Elena, stop crying." She shook her head.
"I'm not mourning," she said quietly, "I'm scared."
"Scared of what?" he asked, leaning so he got a full view of her face.
"This," she met his mouth, suppressing any more words in her throat.
"...It wasn't nothing," he said quietly, breaking away before taking the plunge again.
Perhaps a little obvious. If you're curious, the song Elena is listening to is "21 things i want in a lover" (yes, it's supposed to be all lower case) by Alanis Morrisette. Thought she would be into that sort of music.